Simon Miller’s Chelsea Hansford and Daniel Corrigan opted to reveal their combined Fall women’s and men’s collection in a new way: at a dinner party, held at Hansford’s home in the Hollywood Hills. “Breaking bread” was the night’s through-line, and guests—friends of the designers’ from Los Angeles’s creative community—were dressed in the clothes. The event was conceived to make an umbrella statement. Simon Miller has transitioned into a full-fledged Southern California brand, with both of its leads now living in L.A.

Before dinner was plated, each attendee was photographed in situ in a separate area, whereby a lookbook was created on the spot. Preexamination of the threads, this seemed right on the money; in varying degrees, a jolt of aspirational reality has dominated fashion feeds over the past few weeks. Think: Yeezy Season 6’s Kim Kardashian West snaps and the resultant celebrity cloning campaign that followed them, or Balenciaga’s paparazzi-style Spring campaign. In a smaller way, Hansford and Corrigan struck this tenor with their idea, but with more of an emphasis on friendly dinner table conversations and less so with a goal of tens of millions of likes.

For this writer, the evening began with a ride from the Sunset Tower Hotel in a convertible 1968 Buick Wildcat, about as long in body as a Boston Whaler. Slowly twisting up the narrow streets of the Hills while catching glimpses of the urban sprawl glittering below through night-black palm fronds, one couldn’t help but feel that singular Los Angeles magnetism—throttled glamour, glossy-meeting-grungy sex factor, and even an underlying twang of precariousness—a peculiar thrill imparted by the city. And then there was Hansford’s home, tucked up and away from Laurel Canyon, all long-and-low wooden beams and chic mid-century–era simplicity. A bonfire in a cauldron warmed the outdoor deck; whiskey cocktails were made using turmeric powder. And though the light burned golden and low and the vibe of it all felt very evening, the clothes leavened the shadows by adding bursts of color from a palette pulled mainly out of a 1960s wellspring. “There’s lots of primary,” said Hansford. In fact, the collection is called Pop.